The migraine of a persisting Warlock
by PurpleQuartz
Summary: Someone would notice...wouldn't they?
1. Chapter 1

There was never anything quite as beautiful as Camelot in the morning. It was something, Merlin usually thought with vigour, which was a drastic and sometimes a rather uncomprehending contrast to the dangerous edge of the battlements, the glint of grey and harshness, the painful constriction of binding laws. And something surely invented by a higher power for the sweetest simplicity of firsts.

Say for example;

The highest reaches of the castle walls bouncing with the first, and most precious, of sunlight.

The first stirs of people. Milling around and yawning, already into the labour for the day. Eating the first of their food, earning the first of their money.

And, Merlin thought, inwardly sighing (a possible silent tick he had recently acquired), the very first, and the very worst of Arthur's temper.

Merlin, anointed in his usual neckerchief (red this time), rubbed his long fingers against his temples again. He didn't feel like the latter 'first.' He didn't think he could handle the crummy and vague duties thrown at him along with a golden goblet and a half chewed apple. You see, the pain had started around three weeks ago, and had grown steadily worse. It had been easy to ignore when it had begun. He could smile it off. Pretend it was just his imagination or his impatient magical blood bubbling at the veins in his head, eager to pool golden light into his eyes. But now it was too insistent. Too nagging, like the prince's voice ebbing away at the walls of his skull. Chipping each bit of skeletal frame till there were only words and pain.

He hadn't time to ease it away. He was too busy, always much too busy. Everyone needed him for something. But still the pain was there, pulling the smiling strings of his lips down from their usual goofy grin. _When had his brow held so many lines?_

''Come on,'' he told himself, head over a dish of water, trying to wash away the hour of sleep and discomfort, ''time to wake a prat.''

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 ** _Just a little short write for myself. Please ignore any grammar or punctuation errors. If anyone is interested in this story, I will continue it. Thank you :)  
_**


	2. Chapter 2

Curtains crawled lazily back. Light streamed in. Someone tripped.

MERLIN.

Arthur prince of Camelot, the bravest and toughest of all knights, shuddered at the intrusion of bright white glare and threw the covers over his face. Hiding from the responsibilities of the world by a layer of silk and excess of expensive fluffy pillows was how he planned to spend the day.

A pale hand however protested the idea. It reached over his hair and grabbed the edge of the sheet, yanking it back with force and very little courtesy.

''What do you think you're doing?!'' Arthur cried out, fighting them back over. Muffled by the layers; just audible enough to have the existing twang of annoyance. Merlin cringed, hands fluttering lightly to his head and back down to his side limply.

''Serving a dollophead Sire. If you have to know," he pulled at the sheets again, struggling against kicking legs and stifled curses.

''Leave me alone, Merlin. Go muck the stables!''

''Sire your council meeting…?"

Silence. The royal became motionless. For a moment it was if he were one of the dead, respectively covered so as to avoid prying eyes. Merlin, head beating and wary, slowly moved the layers. Arthur stared blankly beneath.

''Council meeting?'' he muttered. Merlin nodded, regretting the move of his head instantly. He grimaced.

''Yep. Your father issued it yesterday.''

''WELL WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?"

''I did. But you obviously didn't listen…''

Arthur laughed and swung his legs abruptly out of the bed. Merlin sidestepped quickly and rested his hand against a wall.

''Well maybe if you weren't such an idiot I'd have paid attention.''

Arthur waited for the retort. The wisecrack, the whip of gentle bantering words. It never came. Slightly surprised he glanced at his manservant. Merlin was sweating and pale and his curved lips weren't curving the right way.

''Did you run here Merlin? Sleeping in? Should I make you polish my armour more?"

Merlin pointed to a pile sitting on his table. ''Your clothes.''

Arthur shook his head and begun to change.

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 **Thanks for those reviews! You are lovely people! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur put on his best 'this is an intriguing topic and I am considering going forward with this prospect' face. Which was entirely accomplished by his right arm laid flat against the wooden boards, his body leaning slightly forward and his lips clenched and pulled inward. He had sculpted this look in his younger days, when he was sitting at feasts with Morgana and his father. Full unyielded attention was needed for those scolding evenings.

This was no different. This meeting was no different. Something about the outlining farm districts? He knew he should be listening. This would be important when he took the crown surely. His posture, yet, took the same form it did when he was a child. Curled and bored and eager for entertainment.  
He glanced at the man talking. Long beard, splintered with dregs of brown scraggly hair, eyebrows bushy and angled as if he were always angry about some topic or other. Rich clothing dangling from his plump body, falling to his almost hystericaly tiny legs.

 _Listen Arthur. You're a Prince. Listen!_

He focused on the words.  
"And I believe Sire the..."  
Was Merlin having better luck?

 _No Arthur listen!_

"... ground could be harvested..."  
His gaze found Merlin...and well he looked outright terrible; his back arched against a pillar, hands groping underneath his head of black hair. He guessed it would make sense. Merlin wasn't raised like he was, to mold a listening compusure. He grew up simply and carefree. He could imagine him running through trees and fetching pails of water from the well.  
Just... the way he saw Merlin now. He had never seemed this bad before the council. His feet were tapping the floor and what he could see of his squinting eyes were glazed and feverish.

 _Merlin, it's not that bad. Hold on a little longer._

His glances now, couldnt help falling to his manservant. Now it looked as if he were whispering to himself. Sharp words forming and then leaving as quick as they had came. His head shaking. Fingers spasming.  
"...Arthur?"  
The name forced him to attention. His father had been calling to him dissaprovingly.

"We were asking if you agreed?"

Arthur went to form the words, however he stood instead. Merlin was swaying precariously, tilting this way and that. Then he looked at Arthur, eyes impossibly white and huge. The rest of his life that solid unwavering stare would forever be ingraved into the recesses of his mind, permanetly stuck like a thin slice of cold metal.

Anguish. Pain. Fear.

"They will kill you," Merlin said, voice scratching the quiet room. All faces turned to him. The shaking desolute servant.

"They will kill you all."


	4. Chapter 4

Red hot searing agony.

 _Could no one else feel this?! How could they all sit there talking, mellifluous with normality, when there was so much fire eating at their skin?_

He was squinting, frantically rubbing his hair to stop the burning. He might have been crying, all his tears evaporating in the heat. He could be screaming _or maybe that was the roaring in his ears from the flames._

Merlin wobbled, the ground shifting underneath his feet, and suddenly he wasn't there anymore. The feeling was gone, and he was gasping on a cobbled surface, his hands gliding and clinging to the smooth wet stones. He immediately placed his face on them. Cooling it. Reason glided from him and all he felt was pure animalistic relief. Cold. Heavenly cold. Three weeks of pain gone in a flash. No longer was he being eaten alive from the inside.  
He wasn't sure how long he laid there. Waiting for his temperature to drop, the relief to saunter off, and the confusion to settle like a heavy weight in the emptiness of his stomach.  
 _Here? Where was here?_  
Merlin tilted his head, mouth still agape to greedily suck in gulps of chilling air, and looked across to his right. This was Camelot's courtyard. But it was empty and wet with puddles of water. The sky blurred with dark stormy clouds.

It had been sunny this morning. _How in the world had it gotten extremely colourless in that small space of time? And for that matter where was the council meeting...? How did he get here? Where was the clotpole?_  
With that last anxious thought Merlin felt his magic come to his aid, flooding his system with thick honey comfort. It was slower than normal, and that made him worry. He sat up sluggishly and forced himself onto his feet. He felt like a drunk; the steps he took were small and awkward. With each and every corner he stumbled past he stopped, hoping to see someone drifting in the heavy volume of shadows. Or at the very least see signs of human existence. Anything would have been a comfort to him. Unfortunately he was greeted by the welcome embrace of absence.

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 **Hi again everyone! You are all gorgeous! Thank you for your reviews/favourites/follows! I hope this story is leaving you confused and wanting more. See you soon :) xx**

 **(please ignore any grammatical or punctuation errors. Merlin is not mine!)  
**


	5. Chapter 5

Uther demanded that the servant be thrown into the cells. ' _Down in the cells_?' Arthur had thought, ' _he is_ _obviously sick_!' If the sweating and ranting wasn't justifacation enough. Then surely the fact that his eyes had rolled back and his head had met the floor with a solid **THUNK** was proof beyond any.

What did Merlin mean by " _they_ _will_ _kill_ _you_..." Fever? Yes, fever had taken hold of his brain.  
"He needs to be given to Gaius! He is not well. Father I will not let you do this!"  
"Nonsense Arthur. The boy threatened a royal court. His insolence cannot be encouraged any further. No more debate." The court had disassembled. The men unclear of where to go, hovering nearby to catch a glimpse of the sprawled unconscious servant and the kneeling prince anxiously checking his pulse.  
"He never threatened anybody! His forehead is hot, you can't send him away like that!"  
Uther glared down fusterated. After a long moment he cocked his head up and sighed, "you may take him to the physician. That is untill he wakes."

Half an hour later Arthur poised uncertaingly over the sickbed, while Gaius dabbed a wet cloth on his servant's head.  
"What is wrong with him?!"  
"I'm afraid I do not know sire. He seems to be showing signs of multiple ailments...though which one I cannot be sure. At the moment our biggest concern is keeping this fever of his down and making sure his fluids are maintained. I will send for Gwen, and when she arrives I will refer back to my books. "  
"How could I have missed this?"  
Gaius placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
"We all did."  
Despite his ability to handle the situation more then Arthur would be able to, the prince could almost smell the scent of concern seeping from the old man's pores. This was a shock for him, and his hands shook along with the heaving chest of his unbiological son and ward.  
"I will stay with him."  
With the statement Arthur took the cloth from the physician. He dipped it into the water and placed it gently once more onto Merlin's head. Gaius raised one eyebrow and silently hurried to his books.


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin ran up the stairs into the newly christened 'ominous castle'. Loneliness was a strange thing, he could feel the hands of it clutching his throat, strangling the breath away. This was his home! Normally full of chatter. Normally as busy as could be. How was this possible? Suddenly empty of any existence but his flickering own. _Had he passed out? Lost his memory? Was this an attack using magic?_ He swung around the corner and burst into the prince's quarters.  
"Arthur!" Merlin cried out. He turned on his feet and lifted his arms fearfully to his head.  
"Sire!" He called, twisting again.  
Giving up on those four walls he bolted towards the council room. His hands shook as he pushed at the doors forcefully. The room was clean and the chairs were positioned perfectly. Nothing seemed amiss, except for the fact that it was missing of one bustling council.  
He slowly paced toward the table and slid his fingers along the cool wood. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, maybe some evidence as to what had happened, some indent in the grains to prove there had been a frantic struggle.

He cast an incantation that caused a small blue orb to float just above his hand. Seconds past, and then minutes until all time was lost to him and Merlin wasn't at all sure how long he stalked along the room. Finally he gave a frustrated sigh after a disappointing search and let the orb wither and collapse into itself. "Where are you?" He muttered.  
If he could find anyone, anyone at all it would solve some of his questions at least. A flare of inspiration hit Merlin. The great dragon! He would know something! Merlin headed towards the door but stopped. Arthur stood in the doorway, looking drawn and tired and not at all surprised to see his lost manservant.  
"Merlin", he said, "Merlin, forgive me."

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 **Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews/favourites/follows! Next chapter: longer and I will try and update quicker... I just moved houses so to speak(that's my excuse)!**

 **If you're still liking this story, send a review my way.**


	7. Chapter 7

At first Merlin stared. Before him stood the prince, donned in his battle armour (which seemed as heavy as the bags drooping beneath his sad eyes.) There was scruff forming along his jawline and his body was slumping the slump of the defeated.  
"You were clean-shaven this morning," Merlin pointed out warily. Arthur laughed. The sound of it was hollow, and it echoed to the edges of the room and back; foreign and odd and rasping and nothing like the man's usual chuckle. Merlin nearly took a step back in shock.  
"Are you hurt? What happened? Arthur, speak to me!"  
Those sad eyes lifted up and latched onto his.  
"You were right Merlin. We should have believed you."  
The warlock stepped forward, "what do you mean!?"  
"You said they would arrive. They would kill us and they did."  
"I haven't said anything Arthur!"  
"You did my friend. And we ignored you. I ignored you...forgive me. I am sorry, yet what I have done...what I condemned us too. Can never be forgiven." Arthur reached out, grabbed Merlin's shoulder and pulled him closer.  
"I don't know what you're saying Sire. Where is everyone?"  
"Dead. They're all dead."

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The prince fell forward into his servant's arms. "What have I d-done..." He tilted his head onto the other man's chest and sobbed. The quaking shivers wracked his body and Merlin instinctively wrapped him into a hug. _This isn't happening. This is a nightmare. Ask him questions...this isn't real. No one is dead! No one!_

 _"_ I can't remember any of this," was all he said as he held the broken royal.

"N-no you wouldn't," came a hiccuped reply, "It hasn't happened to you yet."

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 **The end...nah just kidding!**

 **I know I said I would update a longer chapter...but I'm a liar and a scoundrel so that's not happening! I'll give you another chapter soon to make up for it.**

 **Thanks for your feedback!**

 **(no slash. Merlin is not mine)**


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